


A Little Bit of Joy

by felicitylemons



Category: Agatha Christie's Poirot (TV), Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: 1920s, Crack Relationships, F/F, Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 12:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12233145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felicitylemons/pseuds/felicitylemons
Summary: In which Felicity meets Phryne while on a case in Melbourne with M. Poirot.





	A Little Bit of Joy

**Author's Note:**

> This wip has been in my computer for a long time, and sadly, I don't think I'll ever do anything more with it. I decided to post what I had.

She wasn't sure how or why it happened, exactly, but somehow Miss Phryne Fisher- Melbourne's notorious lady detective- had convinced her to come to her house for a drink. Felicity agreed, of course, because it would be rude of her not to; they had made good progress with the case that day (surprisingly, M. Poirot and Miss Fisher worked quite well together), so perhaps a reward was also in order.

They'd arrived at the mansion without too much trouble; Miss Fisher's Hispano-Suiza ran like the wind, so much so that Felicity almost lost her hat! The mansion's door was opened cordially by the butler.

Felicity followed Miss Fisher into the foyer, where she greeted the butler, who, oddly, was named after his job.

“Ah, Mr. Butler! Would you be so kind as to bring some drinks up to my bedroom?” Miss Fisher asked, as Mr. Butler removed Felicity’s jacket with an air of knowing.

“Certainly, Miss.”

Miss Fisher had already ascended the stairs, beckoning Felicity to follow. As she followed the other woman to the second floor, she wondered what she had truly gotten herself into.

She was lead into the bedroom, and was offered a seat in a chair near the silk-covered bed by it's owner, who sat herself in front of the chair elegantly. Mr. Butler entered with their drinks, placing them on the table beside the chair before closing the door behind him as he left.

Miss Fisher immediately took her tumbler from the drink tray and downed half of it in dramatic fashion. Felicity wasn’t usually much of a drinker, but she allowed herself the indulgence and sipped at the whiskey so graciously offered to her.

“I couldn’t help but notice your brilliance while working on this case, Felicity.” Miss Fisher began, her eyes—now a lovely shade of blue in the light of the room—sparkling with such sincerity that it made the other woman blush. “I can see why that little Belgian fellow chose you as his secretary.”

“Oh, well it’s nowhere near the intelligence you possess, I’m sure, Miss Fisher.”

“You’re much too modest, Felicity! And please, call me Phryne." She downed the rest of her drink with a singular grace. "But you do have something special about you… A certain insight into people’s character. You’re very intuitive.”

“Well, thank you.”

“However, I think there’s something _I_ know that _you_ don’t”

Something told Felicity that this line of dialogue was going in a very specific and dangerous direction, and she found herself taking quite a large sip of her drink. Liquid courage, she mused, as the whiskey burned her throat and warmed her chest.

“Oh? Is that so?” She asked, eyebrow raised and mouth hidden behind her glass.

“Yes.” Phryne stood up from the bed, placing her emptied drink back onto the tray. She moved to perch purposefully on the arm of Felicity’s chair, her face moving dangerously close to hers. “I’ve always been _quite_ partial to bright women.”

Felicity felt her heart leap in her chest and her stomach flutter in anticipation. “You’re only saying that to flatter me.” She breathed.

Phryne laughed and rested a hand firmly at the back of Felicity’s neck, tickling the wisps of hair there that wouldn’t be contained in her tight buns. “You’re as charming as you are intelligent.”

Felicity’s breath caught in her throat. A vacation romance? What was she thinking! And, for that matter, what would M. Poirot and Captain Hastings think of her?

Yet her employer seemed to have approved in his own little way- with one of his priceless Gallic smiles when he'd caught her admiring Phryne as she worked- and she’d always had a soft spot for strong, independent women.

She decided there and then if there was a reason to regret anything, she could leave it until the morning.

Resting a hand tentatively on Phryne’s stockinged knee, she turned her head slightly so that their lips were almost touching. “I think _you’re_ the charming one here, Miss Fisher."

The detective grinned and closed the gap between them in a heated kiss.

\---

Felicity rested her head against Phryne’s shoulder, divided between having an impulse to fold their clothes—which lay scattered around the room in crumpled heaps—and not wanting to move from her comfortable position. Phryne, now wearing her silk nightgown and matching robe, was smoking a rare cigarette. They chatted mostly about trivial things, both dreading silence which would surely divide them.

“So, where were you during the war?” Phryne asked almost casually. In the lateness of the night, asking such things was easier than usual.

“I was a nurse’s aide. I can definitely say that I’ve seen my fair share of blood and death...” Phryne offered her a smoke, which was politely declined. “And, of course, a fair share of lives saved by the wonderful doctors I worked with. Why do you ask?”

The female detective gave her the sad half sigh-half laugh of someone who understood her feelings completely. “Just making sure I wasn’t the only one who witnessed all the doom and gloom.”

“We were all affected by it, in our own way.”

“The _spoils_ of war.” Phryne sighed, blowing smoke into the air. Luckily, she no longer suffered sleepless nights and dreams that left her shaking and sweating, but she never could acclimatize herself to the sight and smell of blood since.

The unwanted silence finally came between them; the seriousness of the topic of their chat had dampened the mood and left them both without anything more to go on. Eventually, it was Felicity that broke the pause in their conversation.

“We won’t do this again, will we, Phryne.” It was more of a statement than a question, one that Felicity knew the answer to even before she touched the woman’s sheets; however, it was something she needed to hear in person.

Phryne smiled sweetly at her—but her grey eyes were forlorn, apologetic. “Sorry, but I don’t think so.” She shifted to sit on the edge of the bed and busied herself with putting out her cigarette. “I’m hardly the sort of woman you deserve.”

“Now, that’s not for you to decide, is it?” Felicity replied calmly. She moved to sit behind her, leaning slightly so that she could look at Phryne, who gave her a challenging look.

“Well, I’m not one to confine myself to only one man, _or_ woman. Besides, there are… _things_ keeping me in Melbourne, and you must return to London with Poirot. It just wouldn’t work out for us.”

“Perhaps not.”

Silence came between them again, as Felicity went over things in her mind. Phryne felt like another whiskey or cigarette, and moved to stand. She stopped when Felicity rested her hand on her shoulder lightly.

“Then would you be able to do something for me?” She asked, as her green-blue eyes considered Phryne in a questioning glance.

 “I can do just about anything for you, Felicity.”

“Will you write to me?”

Phryne rested her hand over hers and squeezed.  “I’d be delighted to.”

They sat there like that for a moment, both staring out the window into the darkness of the night. Suddenly, Felicity remembered where she was and hurriedly looked around for a clock.

“What time is it?”

“Do you have somewhere you have to be?” Phryne asked, a slight teasing tone to her voice. She glanced towards the ornate mantel clock on the hearth. “It’s a quarter to one in the morning.”

Felicity sighed. M. Poirot would be expecting her in the morning. Maybe the regretting would start now after all.

“A little late to be going back to your hotel, then.” Phryne continued, saying the thing Felicity knew but didn’t want to admit. “Why don’t you stay the night?”

It was only natural, after all. Phryne knew her large bed and silk sheets would be much finer than whatever place they put Felicity in; and it might be the last time she would get to see the charming secretary, who she’d become quite fond of. Emotional comfort was something Phryne sought after frequently, but cherished equally every time. She even might consider a vacation to England sometime in the future.

Felicity hesitated for a moment as Phryne looked at her expectantly. She weighed her options, of which there was only one; to spend the night in the bed of Phryne Fisher. And honestly, had she expected anything else?

 “I… I think I’d like that.” She finally replied, placing a purposeful hand on Phryne’s naked backside. In turn, Phryne cupped Felicity’s warm cheek and moved them both back down onto the bed.

“Wonderful.”


End file.
